Possession
by EvilExpressions
Summary: AU Crossover. The Brotherhood as portrayed in the XMen Movies. A nine year old Artemis Fowl. Not what a sane person would call the best of combinations. [Revision of earlier chapters coming later. The next chapter's in the works. This fic is not dead.]
1. Irish Luck

**HOLD UP. This does not mean I am quitting my other stories. I'm stuck in writer's block for Eye of the Basilisk, so I penned this longhand one day.**

**Enjoy.**

**Prologue: The Luck of the Irish**

Eric Lensherr eyed the black-clad boy in front of him.

"I thought this was a well-protected stronghold, monsieur," said the boy sardonically.

"I'll have to have a word with Toad and Sabertooth later," was the dry, caustic reply.

The boy sent a smirk at the individual standing someplace to the left of the table. "Toad? Well named. It suits his look."

Toad rolled the remains of a once innocent-looking bluebird out on his tongue.

"Charming," the boy stated simply, sipping from his cup of wine. Eric settled himself back into his chair.

"How did you sneak into the stronghold?"

"Considering they were looking out in every direction but the front door, it was a simple task."

Eric sighed mentally. Good heavens, his associates could be so asinine. Had Sabertooth been chasing a squirrel? "So what was your proposition? And stop drinking that, you're not old enough."

"I see no problem with champagne. Besides, I'm seeking accommodation and training."

"Accomodation and training. If you want charity, go to Charles."

The boy regarded him with innocent blue eyes. It didn't fool anyone. "Who's Charles?"

"Nobody here is going to fall for that trick. You're a prodigy. You should know."

"Correct," the boy conceded. "I know."

Eric held up a hand and the metal cup of Dom Perignon sped into his hand. "That was our best wine. Hard to come by. Besides, you're underage."

"Who, pray tell, is going to arrest me? You? Or your pet dog who tried, and failed, to catch me?"

Eric sighed. "Toad, please escort young master Fowl out."

The boy, smirking, floated the cup out of Eric Lensherr's hand. Toad spat the bluebird out. It landed with a splat on the floor.

The female in the doorway turned at the noise.

Eric raised an eyebrow. "You can control your powers already?"

"Even for a prodigy such as myself –"

"Aren't we the arrogant one," the woman chuckled.

"– one can only go so far as far as mutation is concerned. I taught myself, to some extent. But for the rest, I admit it; I require tutelage."

Eric Lensherr was silent as he contemplated his options. On the one hand, the boy was an arrogant little brat. On the other, he was smart, and definitely cunning. There had been more defenses surrounding the fortress than two mutants. "Very well, then. It's good not to lose a mutant to the philanthropist that is Charles."

"Excellent," the boy smirked as they shook hands. Sabertooth balked and began to protest, but the woman – Mystique – hit him before the furry mutant could speak.

"Don't expect royal treatment, though. You are a Fowl no longer…penniless and nowhere else to go. You'll have to make the most of it."

"Certainly."

"Mystique will train you when she can, but if not, you'll have to train with Sabertooth. I'll be overseeing your first session in the Danger Room."

The boy looked a bit paler than usual. Even to our protagonist, the prospect of Sabertooth as a trainer didn't sound appealing.

"Mystique will brief you on the rest next morning. It's late now."

The boy got up from his chair. Just as he turned to Mystique, Eric stopped him. "What would you like to be called? Everyone has a codename here."

Pause. "I have no desire to be known by the name of Fowl. Call me Stefan. Stefan Bashkir."

Eric sat back in silence, thinking hard. With a little training on Stefan's part, he could give Charles a run for his money.

* * *

Mystique had never been the sleeping type. Pills, hot chocolate, reading one of Xavier's books. None of them could cure her insomnia, and considering how boring Xavier's tomes were, that was saying something.

However, she wasn't the only one up early that morning.

"Hello, Bashkir." She remembered that year in Russia. Spying for Eric. It had paid off; now she was fluent in the language.

"Mystique, has Mr. Lensherr ever considered investing in a better plumbing system? Seriously, some individuals have been well-known for coming up with more diabolical ideas in –"

"Eric doesn't believe in hot showers, Bashkir, and like he said; no royal treatment here. Are you going for breakfast or will you sit here and starve?"

"That's a nice voice. Multi-layered?"

Mystique blinked. The façade of child prodigy must have slipped. It was the genuine, innocent comment of a nine-year-old.

"Thank you. Is that Fort Knox you're hacking into?" With the fortress's main computer, no less.

"Easier than holding people at gunpoint."

Mystique was impressed, but hid it. "How did you get here?"

Stefan looked downwards. "I bought a plane ticket with my bodyguard's salary. Undignified, I know. And it was a piece of trash."

"What, the ticket?"

"No, the plane. Flight conditions were terrible."

"Can't be any worse than here. Family argument?"

A nod. " Butler gave me two months' salary."

" Butler? Tall, Secret Service, Eurasian, with deep-blue eyes?"

"The description fits him to a T. Did you know him?"

"I did. Long ago."

Stefan finished transferring the funds and they headed off, talking on the way. Stefan was given a short tour. Metal medical facilities, metal bathrooms, metal everything. Since Magneto had power over metal, Stefan supposed that he could compress it and put it in a suitcase. In theory, but he knew it would never work. Mutation was more complicated than that.

"Toad and Sabertooth argue like two little kids over the last crayon. Toad's fine, if a little slimy, but Sabertooth is a pervert. Really."

"Suits them," Stefan remarked, as the said duo rushed by, arguing about something. "The canine can actually speak?"

"Yes."

"A dysfunctional group, it seems."

"It's all we have."

The dining room, or 'mess hall', as the term went – was a large metal room, with damp and even mildew creeping along the cold floor. Keeping with the metallic theme, there was a steel table in the centre, surrounded by rusty-looking chairs. Stefan was, understandably, skeptical about the hall.

"Eric converted an asylum," was the explanation.

"That explains the padded walls."

Stefan ate his way steadily through the breakfast. It wasn't fine dining, but it was good. "This is strange. Not unpleasant, but different."

"You'll be surprised how good a cook Eric can be."

Stefan nearly choked at this statement.

He got up from the slightly moth-eaten cushion of a wall that he had been leaning against to sit. "What's today's agenda?"

"Physical training first. Then field work, lunch and weapons training, then dinner and mutation training. I can guarantee you that by that time, you will collapse into your bed, no matter how hard it is."

"Does the hunting dog get our meal?"

"He does. And he doesn't take kindly to insults."

"I'll expect a smaller portion, then."

"So, are you ready for physical training?"

Stefan shook his head no.

"Excellent. I'll take that as a yes, then." She headed out, dragging a protesting Irish boy behind her.

"You twist everything I say."

"Heaven knows Eric did it to me often enough."

* * *

Stefan strolled into the kitchens for some water, where Magneto and Mystique were talking together in rather low voices. Toad was fidgeting. "Hey, remember the deal? If you two decided to play Mommy and Daddy, Saber and I would move to Vegas," said the green mutant.

Stefan fidgeted and the 'parents' glared at them all.

"I caught Mystique in the kitchen once," Toad added, "going…"

"SHUT UP, YOU LITTLE AMPHIBIAN!"

"Scratch that," Stefan thought. "Both of them are perverts."

"What? I was just going to say that you were going to make toast!" Toad blinked innocently at them all.

"Not," Mystique said in a dangerous whisper, "in front of an innocent nine-year-old…"

The aforementioned nine-year-old quickly excused himself. The above conversation had suddenly made the young prodigy feel like doing a few more push-ups. He collapsed again after trying, and when Toad didn't join him as he'd said he would, he went out to search.

Toad was sprawled on the (old) couch, watching TV.

Stefan stole the remote from its place (physically) and switched it off.

"Hey!"

"Trust me. The Roadrunner gets away. Now, about my training?"

"Mystique not here?"

"No, she's out to get me some supplies."

"Oh, fine. But being a genius and all, you don't need it, eh? You should know how to manage a medical kit…"

"Yes. I happen to know."

"…So you don't need my help. Just figure out how to use harnesses for steep drops and you're done. Easy as that."

"All right," sighed the criminal.

"Don't tell Mystique. Or Magneto. I don't want to get into trouble."

Stefan made a mental note to tell Mystique later, but then Toad's long tongue snapped the remote from his hand.

"Disgusting," muttered Stefan as he left the room to the sounds of Wile E. Coyote being blown up.

"Thanks!" came Toad's call. "Want a beer? I've got twelve."

Stefan chose to ignore that question and headed to the kitchens. It was probably better than getting food in the hall, anyway. He'd just bitten into a sandwich from the refrigerator when Magneto walked in.

"That was my lunch."

"Want some?" offered young Stefan innocently, holding the remains of it out.

"No, thanks. Why aren't you in training?"

"Sabertooth and Mystique out for spying, I presume?"

"You know what I mean."

"Ask Toad. I believe he is currently watching the Cartoon Network and getting as drunk as is humanly possible. Perhaps more, considering his mutation…"

There was an unholy gleam in Magneto's eye when he left the kitchens.

* * *

"That's a shotgun. If you shoot from there, you'll splatter me too."

Toad was rather annoyed with Stefan for squealing, as he called it, but grudgingly went through the basic exercise. Stefan, as he picked up quite fast, sped through the training (he had even contributed an article on self-defence in the field once), and was with weapons training in no time.

In the Brotherhood's case, weapons training meant guns, and lots of them. Artemis Fowl II had once wanted to take up archery, but Stefan didn't really care now. He took aim and fired.

Mystique ducked the bullet with a nick on the curve, smirking as the other hit its target. It was slightly off, but that didn't matter. "Very nice."

"So, what about the Kung Fu?"

"Oh, that. Well, I'll be teaching you once you're fit enough."

"Pity. Can we start on the Sig Sauers?"

"No."

* * *

**The Isle's Danger Room **

**8.13 p.m. **

Stefan stared at the empty dinner plate. "What do you expect me to do? This reminds me more of a home economics class than a sensible mutation lesson."

"Try to move it, stupid," stated Toad.

Stefan glared at him, but Toad just gave a cheeky grin. It looked as if he'd have to be a bit older for the death glare to work properly.

"Concentrate," said the Master of Magnetism.

He regretted saying those words when, less than a second later, the dinner plate flew at him, nearly taking his head off.

"Sorry," Stefan offered sheepishly.

"At least we know you're telekinetic," mumbled Sabertooth, "but you're not a very good one."

"Yet," Stefan and Magneto said simultaneously.

Stefan readjusted the adrenaline patches that had been stuck to him. Supposedly they could bring out the best of his powers. The Irish boy resolved to look into its construction formula later.

"Sabertooth, check for parasitic abilities," ordered Magneto.

Sabertooth hit Stefan happily. Magneto sighed. "Gently."

Both males were sulking when Sabertooth snatched Stefan's bare wrist in a death grip. The boy winced. "Let me go. Your master said to do it gently."

Sabertooth growled in response. Stefan decided he'd probably suffer physical trauma from this experience.

The observing Brotherhood was very surprised when Stefan's body collapsed completely. Sabertooth let go, staring blankly.

Inside his head, however, a rather interesting conversation was taking place.

_- Out! – _roared Sabertooth.

_-I don't know how, idiot! – _Both of them were panicking.

Magneto approached Sabertooth warily. "What did you do?"

"Nothing, it's the boy! Inside my head!"

"How was I supposed to know? Your presence does nothing to aid my thought!"

Hearing both sentences come from one mouth was very odd indeed.

"Hmm," Mystique said thoughtfully. "Doesn't he remind you of that time Xavier wound up inside your head by mistake? When you were eighteen?"

"Yes," Magneto said, "but he's not a telepath."

Stefan slapped the adrenaline patches back on. "What the hell are you doing?" snapped Sabertooth.

Stefan didn't bother replying, choosing instead to apply contact to his body's bruised wrist. He felt himself flowing out of Sabertooth, and mercifully ended up back in himself. He sat up with a tingling in his wrist, and managed a sleepy sort of smirk at the Brotherhood?

"What do you think?"

* * *

Listen to Stefan. What do you think?

I have a low tolerance level and an even lower maturity level. I'm three years away from O levels, so...review? Nice reviews and constructive criticism gladly accepted.

Flames will be fed to Sabertooth.

Correction. FlameRs will be fed to Sabertooth.


	2. And Now For Something Completely Random

Disclaimer: Lost Scary Marvel Obsession, thankfully. Though the new movie doesn't look that bad. Do not own squat, so do not press charges.

Yes, the fairies will enter. Later. Somehow. But they will.

Artemis Fowl Senior's behaviour, while OOC, had to be done for the plot.

Thanks to reviewers.

Short chapter, more frequent updates.

The italics in Stefan's head are, despite the universe, not a foreign presence or a telepath. Just his thinking.

* * *

Chapter One: And Now For Something Completely Random

"Thai!"

"Chinese!"

"How long have they been like this?"

"Half an hour, Eric."

"Thai!"

"Chinese!"

"Chinese!"

"Tha - TOAD!"

Such was the position in which Stefan later found Toad and Sabertooth.

He turned, perplexed, to Magneto and Mystique - the latter was resting her head in her hands, while the former just looked exasperated.

"They're arguing over what to order for dinner," was the explanation.

Stefan was momentarily taken aback. "Takeout?"

"Of course," Magneto said impatiently. "Surely you didn't expect us to live on grilled cheese sandwiches?"

"No," Stefan said, a trifle testily. He did not like slights on his intelligence, accidental or not. "I was simply wondering how a delivery man is expected to deliver...here," he finished, a little lamely.

_That and it strikes me as somewhat hypocritical that we order _dinner _from a human delivery service, when you preach that we mutants should fend for ourselves rather than accept aid from mankind._

_Either get takeout or starve_, he amended. Wisely so. _I suppose this sort of thing doesn't hurt._

"So," he said with forced cheerfulness, "Thai or Chinese?"

"Japanese. Sushi." This came from Mystique. She looked far from happy.

Magneto looked a little sickened. "_Raw fish_, Mystique."

"Think of it as creative differences."

"What did _you_ want?" Stefan asked Magneto quickly, unable to prevent the feeling of foreboding growing in his gut.

"French," Magneto said promptly.

Stefan looked as crestfallen as a nine-year-old evil genius could. "I wanted Italian."

Silence. They watched Toad and Sabertooth duke it out in a violent flurry of fists, fur and tongue; ducking as one when a gob of Toad's slime flew at them.

Mystique gingerly felt the top of her head and groaned when she felt a thin trail of slime. "I think we'll call out for pizza."

* * *

Some time after the order for pizza had been placed, it was decided that Stefan and Toad would collect it from the dock. 

Needless to say, the two were Not Happy.

"It's _cold_," groused Toad in the lobby. Toad had wrapped himself in as much warm clothing as he could find. Too many puffy bomber jackets and one too many scarves had its effect - the moment Mystique had seen him, she had fallen out of her chair laughing. She was currently lying on her bed with an icepack held to her forehead.

"Obviously," said Stefan, pulling on a scarf, woollen sweater and thick gloves. "Quit complaining. Let's go."

They set off for the docks, which, despite being wooden, had miraculously survived year upon year of bad weather, thrashing lunatics and the Brotherhood. Toad kept up a muttered string of complaints as they went, which annoyed Stefan to no end.

"Toad," he snapped eventually, whirling around. "Just - _shut up_, all right?"

Silence.

Toad blinked owlishly. "You said _shut up_."

"Yes, I did," muttered Stefan, who was now beginning to wish he hadn't, and trudged determinedly on through the snow. Toad followed after at a quicker pace, grinning a bit.

"We've _corrupted _you," he said delightedly.

"I was always corrupted." Stefan changed tack before Toad could respond. "How long did they say they'd take?"

"An hour," Toad said promptly. "Considering where we live, it'll take two if they use a speedboat. Maybe less."

"Wonderful," grumbled Stefan. "An hour and a half in the snow."

"Magneto said something about survival and terrain or whatnot," Toad said vaguely. "I think maybe he was talking about you."

"Really? I'm flattered," Stefan said sarcastically, hating the words _survival training_. He shuddered. Physical activity did _not _suit him at all.

They reached the docks without further incident. The pizza boy - man, in this case - had beaten them to it.

He stood up from where he was sitting on a tree stump, and came over to them, his lip twitching at the sight of Toad's attire.

Stefan watched him warily. Toad blinked. "How'd you get here so fast? We weren't expecting you for another hour."

The man looked a little shifty. "I'm a good runner," he said easily, and passed them a warm cardboard box. "Here."

Stefan looked around at the sea. "Where's your boat?"

He got no reply.

Stefan frowned and took the pizza, while Toad extracted his wallet from beneath layers of clothes - the man's lip twitched - and passed a sheaf of notes to the pizza man. While the man fumbled for change, Stefan took the opportunity to study him. The delivery uniform looked ridiculous on him, but then it would look ridiculous on anyone. Pinned haphazardly to his shirt was a nametag that read _Pietro_.

He handed Toad his change and tipped his cap jauntily to both of them - Stefan thought he caught a flash of silver, but it was too dark to tell - before walking away and disappearing into the fog.

Both Stefan and Toad stared after him. Stefan broke the silence first. "Have we met him before?"

Toad shook his head, frowning. "Don't think so. He seems … familiar … though."

"Hmm," Stefan said vaguely. "We should go back."

He left, pizza in hand, Toad hurrying along in his wake.

* * *

Somehow not the same as the previous chapter. My writing's gone weird on me. 

Random plot device? Joy and rapture. Apologies for OoCness.

Non-constructive flames will be used to heat my tea.

Next chapter depends on how soon I get the next idea.

Reviews and constructive flames accepted, as are suggestions.

Suggestions are good.

- E.E.


	3. Tis The Season, Part I

Disclaimer: I'm not Marvel-obsessed. I simply wish to finish this. And I don't own anything. Rating upped for language. I fully admit to being partially influenced by the Evolution show.

_TwilightSoulTaker – The X-Men won't enter for a while. I think Stefan might need a bit more Brotherhood first. As for Pietro, I have things planned. _

_MuggleBuddy – Yes. Toad all dressed up in warm clothing._

_Mulch Diggums – Thank you. _

_Lamia in crapula – Ahh, thanks. And it's Artemis Junior._

_Celynne – Yes, they will join later. Once I find a suitable excuse. _

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews. I find a guilty pleasure in having my ego stroked. (blinks and reminds self that it's supposed to be a story about Stefan and _not _the others) Ahem. Apologies for canon-wrecking (though I do keep it in mind) and abuse of carolers.

No offence is meant to Jews. I have nothing against them. The carollers were just disappointed.

Toad and Sabertooth may seem vaguely OoC because my perception of them is very Evolution-based. But they get, what, ten lines in the whole movie? _Combined. _I had to improvise.

Somehow I have this feeling it would be more fun with Pyro thrown in. Guess that'd have to wait. Oh, and am splitting the Christmas chapters.

* * *

Chapter Two: 'Tis the Season to be Jolly (I)

* * *

**New York City**

Magneto removed his hat and trench coat, hanging both up on the clothes' tree positioned near the door before stepping further into the apartment. He glanced around at the luxurious interior of the two-storey flat. "Charming place you've got, aside from the cardboard boxes. May I ask as to why it looks suspiciously like Fowl Manor?"

Mystique appeared from around a corner. "Stefan did the interior design. How did you know what their place looks like, by the way?"

"It was once featured on _Travel and Living_."

"Oh. Would you like something to drink?"

Magneto shrugged. "Tea, I suppose." He looked around. "Have you finished unpacking yet?"

"There's still the computer, but I'm not letting you near it," she called over her shoulder as she made the tea.

Magneto raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Magnets wipe the hard drive," she explained.

Mystique finished the tea and handed his cup to him, sipping from her own mug of coffee as they went over to the table by the floor-to-ceiling windows; Mystique shifting into a normal human form as she went. As far as the Brotherhood was concerned, Toad and Mystique were all for the noble cause of caffeine, while Stefan, Magneto and – unexpectedly – Sabertooth preferred to advocate the good qualities of tea.

Magneto paused in his tea-drinking to admire the view. "This is the penthouse, am I correct?"

"Mm-hmm," she agreed, swallowing another gulp of coffee. "It's expensive, but not bad, really. And this could make a good base whenever we need to go on missions."

"True," Magneto conceded. "We'll use it that way, if you don't mind. So tell me about this new place of yours."

"Stefan recommended this place. He bought the apartment." Mystique polished off her coffee. "Probably as an early Christmas present. It's kind of sweet, really."

"Where did he get the money?"

"He muttered something about algorithms and went off to have lunch. And according to the doorman I'm going to have quite a few interesting neighbours."

"Oh?"

Mystique coughed diplomatically. "There are the Maximoff twins on the floor below, but apparently they won't be much trouble … According to the doorman. And the rest of them are all boring old businessmen who don't actually use their apartments."

"The doorman's word is law now, is it?" Magneto said wryly.

Mystique grinned sardonically in reply.

Magneto stood. "Will you be coming back to the fortress?"

"Maybe." She stretched, catlike, on the recliner. "You know, I was watching Mission Impossible earlier, and the all-out insanity in general made me a little … homesick." She looked up at him. "But then again, this place has a water heater."

Magneto smiled despite himself. "Is that so?"

Mystique was spared answering by a loud knocking on the door.

"I'll get it," Magneto said politely, and made his way over to the double doors. He opened them to be greeted by several odd-looking individuals dressed in full-on winter gear and wearing grins bright enough to illuminate the whole of New York at night.

Magneto resisted the urge to shield his eyes. "Yes?"

The leader of the pack, a burly male with a build to rival Sabertooth's, shoved his way to the forefront. "It's our yearly tradition," he beamed. "We come here every Christmas to sing carols."

Mystique had joined Magneto at the doors, and was now staring blankly at the carollers. _Would-be carollers_, Magneto added, and ground out, his teeth snapping shut on the words, "I'm **Jewish**."

The carollers' faces fell. "Happy Hanukkah, then," their leader said sadly, and they shuffled off to the lift. "Guess we'll try downstairs…"

Magneto sighed and shut the door. "I think I'll stay a while longer."

"More tea?" Mystique said sympathetically.

"With some brandy, please."

The aforementioned beverage was duly poured. "How are they doing back at home?"

"They're fine."

"Finished analysis of Stefan's powers yet?"

"Almost. I suppose I could let him off for a while, though."

"He's been with us for what, a month now?"

"Yes."

"You've been exceptionally tolerant towards him," she mused. "Usually if most of us spoke to you the way Stefan does, you'd be lecturing him on manners while hanging them upside down from the ceiling."

"He's nine years old. I am, as you say, cutting him slack. Besides, you and Sabertooth are hardly the sort to be dangled upside down from the ceiling."

"Somehow I doubt that Stefan would get a chance to relax with Toad around."

"True."

For a moment all was quiet, as the two of them stared out at the snow-covered city of New York, drinking in the view and thinking about many things.

Below them, the hapless carollers were bodily flung back into the lift from which they'd come, the vestiges of a bright red hex bolt still sparking around them.

* * *

**Brotherhood Fortress, Middle of the Sea**

Toad, as a matter of fact, had bodily dragged a protesting Stefan to the TV room and sat him down on the carpet before shoving a video controller into Stefan's hands and ordering him to play.

Stefan had scowled, glared and sulked for a while, as some evil geniuses are prone to doing.

Within ten minutes, however, Toad was staring blankly at the screen as Stefan's score flashed on the high score counter. The aforementioned counter seemed to have run out of zeros.

"What the hell?" Toad seemed to be completely devoid of words left to say.

Stefan shrugged. "All you have to do is learn how to play it, and then it's just easy."

He left the room to a dumbfounded Toad.

The aforesaid Toad sighed, shook his head, and picked up Stefan's abandoned video controller. "Now maybe if he stopped using the cheat codes…"

* * *

**Brotherhood Kitchen**

Unfortunately for Stefan, Toad cornered him again later in the kitchen while the precocious nine-year-old was eating buttered toast. Oddly enough, Sabertooth was seated opposite Stefan – drinking tea - though neither of them was acknowledging the other's presence in any way.

"Hello," Toad said, grinning suavely. Or at least what he thought was suavely.

Stefan gaze left his laptop long enough for him to nod his greeting.

Toad looked around. "Where's the toaster?"

"He melted it," Sabertooth said shortly, stabbing a blackened talon at Stefan. Apparently, Toad thought, PopTart withdrawal had affected his vocal chords. Now they were actually _working_.

Toad stared. "You **melted **the toaster?"

"I was hungry," muttered Stefan, electric-blue stare still fixed firmly on the screen of his laptop.

"Stefan … when making toast you're not supposed to melt the toaster."

"I know **that**," snapped Stefan, still not taking his eyes off his precious laptop. "I am just … physically incapable of operating any domestic devices that are even remotely related to the preparation of food."

"Ease on. There are a lot of long words in that sentence." Toad opened the fridge and reached for a beer. Popping the cap off, he kicked the fridge door shut and sat between Stefan and Sabertooth, taking a swig from the bottle. "So," he said finally. "In other words … you can't cook."

A light flush was suffusing the boy's white skin.

"I'll take that as a yes." Toad drank a bit more and watched Stefan's fingers flying furiously on the laptop's keyboard. "Why do you always carry that thing around?"

"It's …" Stefan, for the first time, had to fumble for words. "…Comforting."

Toad raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, teetering on two thin metal legs. "Right."

The sound of breaking, and a growl of mixed exasperation and … some emotion Toad couldn't quite put his finger on … followed it.

There was silence as he watched the snow fall outside, with only the sound of Stefan's typing – so fast that the typing noises had blended together into one continuous sound – to fill it. It was almost peaceful; something to make one feel warm and fuzzy, something _nice_, something bordering on an almost family-like scene. Even Sabertooth seemed unusually passive that day, staring morosely at the delicate china shards of the teacup, which had broken in his hand.

Toad sighed, and broke the quiet.

"Are you going to get me a Christmas present?" he asked, somewhat teasingly.

This was enough to effectively startle Stefan out of his computer reverie. "_What?_"

Toad groaned. "Don't tell me. You've never gotten anyone a Christmas present before."

Stefan glared. "Incidentally, I _have_. If you must know, I bought you all a new base in New York this morning. I think that should be enough."

Toad rolled his eyes. _Scrooge. _"You're the 'Bah, Humbug' type, aren't you, Ebenezer?"

Stefan smiled mirthlessly. "Yes."

Toad was about to make a smart comment involving Stefan, Santa Claus and the infamous naughty-or-nice list; but then Sabertooth stood up with a screech of friction between the floor and his chair, and the burly mutant left, broken shards digging into his fist and drawing blood. Somehow Toad knew it had less to do with Stefan – well, _existing_, and far more to do with the cup.

He turned to Stefan with a big grin on his face that didn't reach his eyes. "So?" he prodded. "No presents?"

"No," said Stefan flatly.

"I guessed you weren't the type to separate work from life," Toad said lightly. He changed tack. "Do you like the decorations?"

Stefan looked up and glanced around. Admittedly he approved of the choice in colour scheme; for the décor had comprised mostly silver, white and green, with the occasional small splash of red. Holly and silver, and all that. Overall it spoke of understated elegance. Not too gaudy. Classy. He was reminded, with a faint pang, of past Christmases at Fowl Manor.

Stefan brushed it off and continued typing. Somewhere along the way he had lapsed into typing stanzas of Milton's _Paradise Lost_.

It was almost hard to believe he could still remember it.

Toad neither knew nor cared what Stefan was typing, but was still waiting expectantly for a reply.

"Yes," Stefan said after a moment. "They're …" – _his throat seemed to have constricted_ – "…nice," he managed, a tad thickly.

Toad nodded, still grinning. It looked genuine. Stefan supposed he was happy at the compliment; though, oddly enough, the elder mutant's eyes were curiously empty.

"Thanks," he said abruptly, and, without further ado, left.

Stefan was alone now, solitary mutant amidst a mass of holly and silver.

* * *

Seems more serious lately. I don't know why. Maybe it's the fluffy X-Mas fics that got to me. 

Stefan really doesn't know squat about buying apartments in nice neighbourhoods.

I realize they're closer than should be possible, but Stefan's been there a month in fic-time.

Reviews, constructive criticism and suggestions appreciated. The latter may be needed.

Also, I have decided to pull a Fruits Basket on the fic and ask for a popularity vote, just for the heck of it. It's just naming all the characters thus far in the order of which you like them.

By the way – Rogue: to join the Brotherhood or X-Men?

Spelling errors equal QuickEdit.

Mata na.

- E.E.


End file.
